In the Morning, I Could Take the Burning Sun
by Darkargo
Summary: Some time has passed since the Aparoid War ended, and the members of StarFox have gone their separate ways. Still hungry for action, Falco travels to a human colonized planet to compete in an aerial race. He is quickly shot down and left to die in the wasteland of the planet. Even with the help of base full of drunk mechanics and a egocentric tank, will Falco fly again?
1. Welcome to Neverita

(Hello everyone, Darkargo here! A friend of mine for years has been nudging me to do some writing on here, and after much resistance, I finally caved. I thought of this story earlier this year, and I ended up changing a lot of it. There will be OCs in here, just to give you a heads up. Also, I like feedback. Don't be afraid to point something out that I did wrong. Enough of my blabbering, enjoy!)

**Disclaimer:** **DARKARGO DOES NOT OWN STARFOX. STARFOX IS OWNED AND LICENSED BY NINTENDO. DARKARGO OWNS ORIGNAL CHARACTERS, PLOTLINE, SETTING, PRACTICALLY EVERYTHING IN THIS STORY NOT LICENSED AND OWNED BY NINTENDO. THE TITLE IS APART OF THE SONG '"CHOICES" BY THE HOOSIERS. CARRY ON.**

**RATED (T) FOR: FOUL LANGUAGE, ACTION SEQUNCES, AND FOR BLOOD AND GORE.**

**"**Speech"

_Thought_

**Computer**

* * *

It ended. The whole thing, the whole war felt surreal. They were in an endless dream of fighting and chasing. So when the Aparoid Queen wheezed her final breath and detonated into a thousand pieces, it didn't feel real. After all drama, they were expected to return to their normal lives. The end of the war was like waking up from a nightmare. No matter how awful it was, they had to face reality and carry on with their lives. However, unlike a nasty, pee-your-pants dream, the damage was palpable. What happened here couldn't simply be forgotten. At least they could rest easy, but how long would this new-found peace last? The Lylat System had a knack for getting itself in trouble. When the new problem arose they, the Starfox team, would be ready. Of course, it wouldn't be bad to try a live a normal life for the time being.

The five ships cruised through the remains of the Aparoid home world. While the stars were nice to look at, the wonderful bits of planet and dead alien littered the space around them. The setting wasn't entirely romantic. And yet, out here, in the wake of violent, final battle, a certain fox proposed to a certain vixen. Something gave him the boost of confidence he needed to do so. Perhaps killing the Aparoid Queen did it, or the fact he nearly died, or just simply he was tired of beating around the bush. Whatever the case, he said it. It came as a surprise to no one when she said yes.

The Aparoid war and wedding were behind him now. The motley group dissolved after they returned to Conereia. They all chose separate paths. The seasoned veteran finally retired. The couple married and settled down. The mechanic returned to his home planet to find love there. The proud pilot wandered amongst the stars. No matter how far apart they were, they would always be the Starfox team.

He stated many times that he flew solo. Falco always preferred working alone. Of course, he would never openly admit his sadness for the team dissolving. It could only be hinted at through his tone and actions. So when the team officially disbanded, he flew off in pursuit for a new job. With the war dying down, there wasn't much use for an ace pilot other than escort missions. He didn't hate them, he didn't love them either. They were jobs that paid the bills, nothing more. Even after months after they went their separate ways, he caught himself making snide remarks to Fox or Slippy despite their absence. He reminded himself this was the life of a lone wolf, and yet, he didn't feel any better about it. No sense of pride swelled within him after defeating foes or accomplishing missions when he did them alone.

Soon he grew tired of doing missions and decided to take a break. He traveled from planet to planet, hoping to find something to quench his taste for excitement. Each planet offered a change in scenery and nothing else. A year had passed since the end of the Aparoid war. A dozen planets had been visited, and he still could not fill the void of his ex-team, until he overheard a conversation one evening.

Falco sat hunched over the bar. Another slow night to complement an even slower day, such an exhilarating life he led. The proud avian tipped the beer bottle into his beak, letting the taste of barley and alcohol wash over him like a wave on a shore. Here he was, the impressive, ace pilot of Starfox, on some backwaters planet, sitting in a third-rate, skin-crawly bar. Ah yes, he traded his famous days for absolutely nothing. Fantastic, he deserved to celebrate such a fabulous exchange. "Hey buddy, get me another cold one." He was living it up. The bartender slid yet another beer in Falco's direction. Falco began to nurse his third beer as two older pilots sat a seat away from him. Due to his lack of entertainment, Falco silently observed the two pilots. One was jet black tom, who sat with his back facing Falco. The other was a more interesting sight. Humans weren't commonly seen in the Lylat system, especially in these parts. The one chatting with the tom was male with silvery hair and a face full of whiskers. Whenever he wasn't talking, he clenched his jaw tightly, causing the muscles in his face to bugle. Seeing the two wouldn't be making fools of themselves, Falco returned his attention to his beer bottle, swirling it slowly. He did, however, eavesdrop on their conversation.

"…Tell me again where you are from?" The tom's smooth voice trickled through the air. "One of those human colonies, am I correct?"

The human nodded his head, "Aye, from the 'gold rush' planet." His husky tone clashed with that of the tom's. "Ain't nothing out there, 'cept the mines."

His friend clicked his tongue in disdain. "Sounds rather dull."

"It is, at least they have the races." The steel blues eyes flicked over to Falco, who turned his head in interest. Upon their gazes meeting, the avian sneered at the human and looked away. "Really? Do tell."

The human shoulder's settled confidently, leaning back on his stool. " Well since Neverita is solely focused on minin' and refinin', we locals rely on machines. The land is rugged and barren, so tanks and planes are more common than cars." He shook his head. "Only them rich folks drive cars. Ass idea to do so. Anyway, we all decided to have races now and again to get bragging rights and a shit ton of cash." A broad grin appeared on his face. "I won one of them races years ago and used that money to get the hell off that blasted planet. Happiest day of my life to leave that shit-hole."

The tom sipped from his wine glass. "I suppose the races were dangerous."

"Extremely so, lost a couple blokes from racing." He scratched his chin. "I still can't decide which is more dangerous: the tank racing, or the sky racing. People die gruesome deaths in the races. Tanks get crushed by cave-ins, or swallowed by the acid seas. Planes are ripped apart and smash into the mountains."

The old man suddenly began talking about his preferred cigar brand, stating how a box of cigars was included in his winnings. Both Falco and the tom were a little bewildered how a man could go from talking about death to chatting about cigars. They figured death commonly occurred on his home planet hearing him speak so lightly of it. Neither of them dwelled on the thought for long. The odd pair left the bar a few hours later, leaving Falco alone at the counter. He had been chewing on the idea about going to the mining planet. Other than the races, nothing else happened on the planet. He stared up at the ceiling and sighed. He had nothing better to do, might as well go try it out. Laying some bills on the counter, Falco left the bar and faced the humid, stagnant air outside. Time for a change in scenery, he hated the climate on this planet.

Falco quickly realized getting to Neverita was easier said than done. Hardly any of carrier and cargo ships made their voyages out to the blip of life on the very edge of the Lylat system. The most common excuse he heard was, "It's simply too far, and besides, it's not even in the Lylat system." Alright, so maybe it wasn't on the edge of the system, he still wanted to go there. After asking about a dozen different people, one of them finally directed him to someone who flew out to the nearby system frequently. Thankfully, they had recently stopped for refueling and exporting purposes. Falco's luck hadn't run out on him yet.

The human who ran the ship looked like the man who he saw at the bar earlier. In fact, upon closer inspection, he was the same man. He spotted Falco and grinned like the Cheshire cat. "Well, well, well, I heard you been lookin' for ole' Johnny," He crossed his large, scarred arms. "I didn't expect to see you. I s'pose you want a trip to Neverita."

The avian rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever, old man, can you take me or not?"

Johnny shook his head and smiled. "Now why would ya want to go there, sonny boy?" He chuckled at Falco. The old pilot knew how to irk people.

"None of your damn business."

His eyes narrowed, " It _is_ entirely my business. So unless ya tell me, I won't take ya."

"I need a job." Falco lied. The older pilot threw his head back and laughed. "Ya don't know how to lie, do ya, boy? Neverita don't like yer kind running around on their planet." He leaned against his ship. "Sure, I'll betcha there are a coupla animal folks like yerself livin' on Neverita, but it's a hard life for 'em." A stump of an index finger pointed at him. "Ya want to race." Johnny stood up and jerked his thumb to the ship behind him. "If ya got ship, nothing too big, then bring it around tonight, I leave tomorrow."

"How much will it cost?" Now Falco crossed his arms. The older pilot shrugged his shoulders. "Nothin', I only charge for food." He extended his hand, "Do we have a deal?" Falco looked at the hand smeared with grease and oil. "Yeah, I guess we do." He shook Johnny's hand. His new adventure had begun.

The old pilot didn't bother Falco much during the voyage. Johnny understood the bird wanted isolation; even so, there were some things Falco needed to be warned about. Every time he came across his passenger, Falco deliberately avoided him. The boy had no idea of the dangers of the mining planet and had no intention of preparing for them beforehand. Johnny gave up after sometime had passed. It was Falco's life, if he wanted to throw away, then who was he to stop him? A about a week had passed when they arrived at Neverita.

"Are ya sure ya don't want my advice?" The elder pilot watched his passenger prep the Arwing for takeoff. "Positive."

"At least hear me out," He ambled behind Falco. The avian stopped and swiveled on his heels to face the human. "What?"

"Watch out for the drones." He curled his lip back and spat. "Filthy bastards, they strike like lightning." Falco snorted. "I'm serious, son, they'll kill ya." Johnny wanted to slap the bird in front of him. Who the hell did he think was? The younger pilot waved his hand in a shooing motion, "Just go, pops, I'll be fine."

He growled at the avian and stormed off. "I hope the buzzards pick ya clean!" His hoarse voice bounced off the hangar's walls.

A prickling sensation crept up his spine. Falco fidgeted in the cockpit like a race horse in the gates. In a few short moments, he would be released from the bowels of the cargo ship, and be free to do as he pleased.

"Ya ready to fly, sonny boy?" Johnny's voice rippled from the radio. "Hang tight, I'll be openin' the door." The entire ship shook as the massive door slid sideways, opening the hangar. Soon, only a thin green shield separated the arwing from the vacuum of space. "So long, Falco, try and not get yerself killed!" Johnny laughed loud through the radio's speakers.

"Yeah, will do." He muttered as the ship launched the fighter into space. The Arwing spiraled into space, snapping its wings out for flight. The smaller ship cruised around the massive carrier orbiting around the planet. "Take care of yourself, gramps." Falco sped off toward the Neverita, leaving the older pilot alone again. Johnny spoke after Falco dipped out of range, "Welcome to Neverita, foolish pilot. May God have mercy on yer soul, for Neverita will grant you none."

The Arwing dived into the atmosphere, pulling itself free from space's grasp. While Falco adjusted the G-diffuser system output, his radar started frantically beeping. He squinted through the canopy. He didn't see anything other than the bizarre surface of the planet. "What a dump." Two dusty continents floated in clear-watered oceans. Stemming from the edges of the continents were vein-like trails of crimson particles that crisscrossed in the water. They reminded him of vessels in the eyeball. Whatever the radar detected went out of range, ending the rapid string of beeps.

Something was wrong. He couldn't just turn back. That old coot would call him a coward. Falco pressed on, ignoring his gut's warnings. As soon as he was fifty thousand feet above the surface, the beeping returned. Something about the size of a barrel of oil darted past him. A stream of unintelligible chatter erupted from his communicator when a second one appeared. The two creatures lined up next to the Arwing, putting the fighter between them. They were the drones. Each drone had a circular body with a few antennas protruding out of their backs. A single red orb flashed on the front side of the machine. To complement their eccentric form, a long serrated tail lashed behind them. Falco smirked. The old man said these things were 'dangerous', they sure didn't look the part.

They followed him as he drew closer to the planet's surface. They 'spoke' to one another through his communicator (He found it slightly disturbing). The droids weren't bothering him so he had no reason to engage them. He didn't want to draw attention to himself. The drones suddenly pulled up, apparently abandoning Falco. "That old coot is crazy." He glanced in the rearview mirror to see the two drones racing after him. "Shit, he was right." The Arwing rolled out of the way as the two drones shot past him. He increased his speed, hoping to lose his attackers. They regained their lost distance quickly. How could these snots fly so fast? Falco did everything from U-turns to somersaults, but these bastards wouldn't let up. He grinned, narrowly avoiding one of the droids. "Finally, an adversary worthy of my talent," He grinned. "This should be fun." The Arwing danced around the drones, evading their every attack. Dumb machines, they couldn't keep up with him. A sharp, ear-splitting shriek tore through his communicator, breaking his concentration. Falco rubbed his ringing ears when the first drone's tail latched onto the Arwing's left wing. It violently pulled the Arwing, popping the wing off and sending them into a downward spiral. "C'mon baby, stay with me!" He grunted as the second drone whipped by, shredding the second wing with its tail. The bizarre chattering from the drones spilled from his radio. He grinded his beak, fighting with the controls to maintain stability, but the fighter refused to listen.

The first drone appeared in front of the ship somehow managing to avoid colliding into him. Falco smirked, "Stupid piece of shit." Exacting revenge on the drone probably wasn't the smartest idea. The molten, green lasers exploded out of the Arwings' canons, tearing straight through the drone's metal carapace. It screeched before imploding in front of the descending Arwing. The leftover pieces of the drone clawed the exterior of the Arwing, smashing into the canopy of the fighter, breaking the glass as pieces of metal tore through. One screw embedded itself deep into his shoulder. "Guess you get the last laugh." Blood spurted out of his shoulder, giving the cockpit a nice coat of red paint. The crippled ship somehow managed to stop corkscrewing to its death, but they were still falling. He couldn't open his eyes without the wind trying to gouge them out. The pilot knew if the other drone didn't kill him, then he would smash into the mountainside. If his ship didn't explode on impact, then he would be crushed to death. He just couldn't win, could he? Well giving up was just as bad as losing. Slowly, he pried his eyes open. Falco had to gauge how close he was to the earth. Depending on the height, he could attempt to land. The moment his eyelids parted, the wind blinded him. His eyes' instinctively closed. The second drone hissed beside the aircraft. Its chattering voice rippled through the radio. A crack of thunder roared, causing the ship to shudder. Great, he had fallen directly into a thunderstorm. Falco popped his eyes open to see the second drone crumbling to molten parts. Amidst the sound of the whooshing wind that flooded the cockpit, a voice crackled through the communicator. "You still alive? I'd hate for you to be dead, seeing you're the only other witness to my spectacular marksmen skills. Fire some shots if you can hear me."

"Don't you sound important." His eyes snapped shut and fired a few shots.

"Good," The voice crackled again. "If you can, eject yourself from the aircraft."

He couldn't, not with the canopy frame smashed. "AND WHAT IF I CAN'T?"

The voice on the other end paused. "Decrease your speed if you can, and start praying." As if he wasn't already slamming the brakes. It felt like hours before his struggling craft finally hit the ground. Judging by the way it rolled sharply, he must have been coming in at an angle and landed on the right side. Falco slammed his head repeatedly into the walls of the cockpit while the fighter rolled repeatedly. It finally stopped when the crumbling, steaming Arwing smashed into the side of the mountain. He lay sideways in the cockpit. Blood dripped from his nostrils and spewed from his arm. How he managed to stay awake through every roll confused him. Why he still lived shocked him. Five minutes after the crash, Falco Lombardi passed out in a pool of his own blood.

* * *

The human colony on Neverita sat on the very outskirts of the human expansion. Only a million or so individuals populated the rocky landscape. There were several bodies of water on the arid planet equivalent to Earth's swelling oceans in size and depth. Like the rest of the world, the oceans lacked wildlife. The copious amounts of salt and minerals in the ocean made the Dead Sea look like a fresh water lake, making it difficult for anything other than algae to thrive in. It's obvious the people who came colonized the planet didn't chose it for the beautiful scenery. The minerals and natural gases that lay beneath the surface could fetch a high price if unearthed. There were tales of people striking it rich on Neverita which lured people out there in droves. While some of the stories were true, a large portion of them were false. The locals knew the government running the planet would do anything to bring in fresh blood. So distant and far Neverita was from the capital planet, it would take months in the fastest ship to reach it. Sometime would pass before the inevitable corruption of the planet's officials. The locals couldn't blame them; they would have done the same. The biggest problem on the planet wasn't the lack of arable land and fresh water, it was the population itself. For every forty males, there was one female. The few children born on this planet didn't compensate the hundreds of lives lost to mines. Unless the planet could attract more female citizens, the population was doomed to collapse.

* * *

Buzzard duty. What a lucky girl she was to get such an esteemed job. Sunlight poured in through the windows of the _Trouble Maker_. The tank rolled along the landscape, its apple red paint blazing under the burning sun. Buzzard duty required one to travel around and search for crashed ships. Despite the problematic population issue, Neverita wasn't too keen on letting outsiders from the neighboring systems merge with the locals. The government set up drones to act as security dogs to shoot whoever trespassed. Once the fight was over, the aircraft shot down, the drones would go about their business, not bothering to clean up the mess they made. The locals would then take the remnants of the aircrafts and sell their parts, or in her case, melt them down for metal. It wasn't the best job; at least she could be outside. She traveled some three hundred miles to a 'popular' spot in hopes of nabbing some parts.

Grace munched on a granola bar when her radar chirped. She glanced up, the bar sticking out of her mouth. To her sheer luck, one aircraft had just dropped out of the sky. Some drones were tailing it she guessed the battle would end soon. However, when the wounded vessel fired at the drones, her relief faded. The pilot was still alive. With the bar still clamped between her teeth, she urged the tank on. By now the aircraft had stopped spinning and veered sharply east. She slowed the _Trouble Maker _to a halt. Grace opened the storage unit behind her and extracted a large shell that weighed around 40 pounds. After loading the glistening shell into the canon, she slammed herself back into her seat. Her discolored fingers danced over the controls as the tank's A.I. locked onto the drone. "Hit him fast!" She ordered. The canon took aim, adjusting itself for the final time, and fired. She jolted in her seat and swallowed the rest of the bar from the recoil of the canon. The young woman pulled herself out of the tank, "Did I hit 'em?" Her hands shielded her grey eyes from the sun. A smile spread across her face as the aircraft plummeted alone. "Hook me up with the pilot," she addressed the tank's computer. "And make it snappy." What a rush! She slipped back into her seat and popped her knuckles. **Connection successful.** The computer's monotone voice chirped. "You still alive?" The tank lurched forward. "I'd hate for you to be dead, seeing that you're the only witness to my spectacular marksmen skills." The computer chattered in annoyance; it didn't like her taking the credit. Grace patted the controls like an owner pats their dog, "Fire some shots if you can hear me." The pilot answered her by shooting the air in front of him. "Good, if you can, eject yourself from the aircraft."

"AND WHAT IF I CAN'T?" She raised her eyebrows at the pilot's question. Grace didn't want to be the bearer of bad news, if the pilot couldn't get out soon, he probably crash and die. She hated being a wet blanket. "Decrease your speed if you can, and start praying." Her tank cruised after aircraft. They didn't have much time left. Before the ship hit the ground, Grace looked away. She expected some explosion with a cloud of destruction mushrooming above it. The ship instead rolled several times and collided with the mountainside. Was it wrong to be slightly disappointed with the outcome? The tank parked itself in front of the wreckage. "Where is the saw?"

**The back lower compartment to your right.**

"Thanks," She heaved the massive laser saw out of the drawer. "Call the hospital; tell them we have an emergency."

**Roger.**

She lugged the saw onto her shoulder and hopped out of the tank. The stones crunched beneath her feet as she trudged over to the crumpled aircraft. The ship lay sideways on the ground and steamed quietly. Peering into the cockpit, Grace could see the pilot slumped to the side. She squatted down and turned the saw on. It sprang to life. The brilliant green laser hummed as she cut along the canopy frame. The twisted frame toppled off the ship, stirring up the sand and dust. "Hey, you okay?" Her hands reached in toward the pilot. He was still alive. She had discarded the saw and withdrew a switchblade, "I'm going to cut you out of here." It didn't surprise her to see his species in the belly of a crashed ship. He and his animal brethren were common victims of the drones. Sitting a puddle of blood, it took her several minutes to remove him from the ship and haul him back into her tank.

"Did you call?" She carefully laid the pilot in the other seat.

**Yes.**

"Call Max."

**Roger.** Grace had begun patching up the pilot when the computer alerted her of the successful connection.

"Afternoon, sweetheart, how can I be of service?" A voice whistled through her radio.

"There's a fresh kill out here. I need you to pick it up."

"How fresh?"

She groaned. Grace didn't have time for this. "Saw the kill myself. I've sent you the coordinates."

Max hissed from the other end, "Why can't you pick it up?" Man, was he annoying.

"Just pick the damn thing up." She abruptly ended the call. Grace turned to the wounded pilot and sighed. "Hope you know what kind of mess you've dragged yourself into." The bird man stirred. "Hey, you with me?" She poked his shoulder. After having an awkward five minutes of silence, the bird man's brain finally registered her persistent prodding. "Would you quit it?"

"You're alive, thank God."

He tried to sit up, "Where the hell am I—AURGH!" He clasped his right shoulder. His savior sat unflinchingly before him; her face devoid of any emotion. "What is your name?"

He practically snarled at her. "I am BLEEDING to death, and all you care about is my fucking name?" Not to mention his head felt like someone hit it with a jackhammer.

"You could at least tell me," Grace rose from her knees. She weaved around the cabin of the tank while Falco continued.

"Falco, Falco Lombardi, can you help me now?" He moaned again, leaning back in the passenger seat.

She ignored him, "Computer, take us to the hospital." Instantly, the tank propelled itself forward. "Now," Grace squatted in front of him, clutching a white box. "I am going to knock you out and do horrible things to you." A little humor never hurt anybody.

He shrugged. "Yeah, yeah, whatever just shoot me up, okay?" He extended his good arm to her. "I'm tired of feeling like a piece of shit." Her discolored hands filled the syringe with the painkiller and plunged it into his shoulder. "You're stupid, you know that?" She extracted the needle and wrapped his arm in gauze.

His good hand suddenly grasped her arm, "What was that?"

"Can't you even manage to thank me?" She folded her arms. "Had I'd known you'd be such a whiner, I wouldn't have saved you."

"You didn't have to save me. I didn't ask you to." He snapped.

"Yeah whatever," She returned to her seat. "Just don't bleed all over my seat."

"Well pardon my uncontrollable blood loss."

After twenty minutes had passed, a loud snore broke the silence. It seemed the drugs had taken effect. She moaned loudly. What a wonderful sound to listen to for the next four hours.

Evening fell by the time they arrived in the nearest city. Grace settled into her seat as the city-going traffic sucked in the tank. It probably would be another thirty minutes or so before she reached the hospital. And once the hospital took in their bizarre patient, Grace would refuel and head back out the crashed Arwing. In her haste to leave, she had forgotten her laser saw as well as Falco's things. It was safe to say he would be stuck here for a while. Grace didn't like the idea. Hiding a fugitive here would cost her a pretty penny. No doubt she would have to tip the doctor off, which already sounded expensive. Falco also would be charged in her care. Perfect, like she didn't need another guy living in her house. Twenty-two men were already pushing the limits to her sanity, why life decided to throw another male to the mix mystified her. But did she call the shots around here? Nope.

* * *

"…What do you mean he's an odd case?"

"You'll see." The _Trouble Maker_ sat outside the backend of the hospital, rumbling quietly for its rider's return. Grace led the doctor inside the tank and gestured to Falco. "Here, fix him." His bright green eyes widened, "Fix him? How? You are asking me to do a _vet's_ job. I can't do his species—" Grace's stained fingers intertwined with his collar and slammed him against the wall. "I typically don't like to resort to brute measures; however, you aren't giving me a choice." The doctor writhed in her grasp, his rheumy eyes swimming with fear. "Of course, I wouldn't be asking you do this for _charity_." He stared at her free hand rubbing her thumb and fingers together. "I will pay you, heck, I'll even throw in extra clams if you pretend you never had an avian patient." Her silver teeth glowed in the dim lighting. "That is my proposition," She released him. "Whether you chose to accept him as your patient or not, that is up to you."

The doctor massaged his throat, swallowing a few times as he thought over his offer. This strange woman didn't say anything about turning her down, yet he felt he would suffer the consequences if he did so. He wiped his brow. "It's a deal." They shook hands under the lamplight filtering in through the window. No questions were to be asked about the strange man. As the doctor and his staff toiled in their patient's bloody recovery, the savior sped off into the night to finish the job she started. What a life they lived.

* * *

(Good gravy, this chapter was long. Ignore my whining, thank you for reading my story! I've already got the second chapter in the works. You know, I always find the first chapter the hardest one to write. Everything else comes easily after that. Love it? Hate it? Hungry for more? Please tell me! Have a nice day! ~Darkargo)


	2. Newspaper Girl

(Hi guys! How's it going? Look at all these views, I feel so special. Thanks for both the reviews and views, guys! Also, I apologize if this chapter is a little boring. I tried merging it with the third chapter, but it wasn't working out. Oh well, enough of my squawking, enjoy!)

**Disclaimer:** **DARKARGO DOES NOT OWN STARFOX. STARFOX IS OWNED AND LICENSED BY NINTENDO. DARKARGO OWNS ORIGNAL CHARACTERS, PLOTLINE, SETTING, PRACTICALLY EVERYTHING IN THIS STORY NOT LICENSED AND OWNED BY NINTENDO. THE TITLE IS APART OF THE SONG '"CHOICES" BY THE HOOSIERS. CARRY ON.**

**RATED (T) FOR: FOUL LANGUAGE, ACTION SEQUNCES, AND FOR BLOOD AND GORE.**

**"**Speech"

_Thought_

**Computer**

* * *

Late in the night, some eight hours after meeting Falco, Grace resumed her duty. The crimson tank shot across the land like an arrow, cutting deep into the barren earth. She needed to prep the crashed Arwing for transportation and retrieve both her saw and Falco's belongings. The guys back home were already in motion for the pickup while she lagged behind. Her nose wrinkled at the smell coiling up from the backseat. Grace didn't have time to clean the mess Falco made on the seat and started to regret not cleaning it up at the fueling station. She noted to hose it down with some air freshener after she arrived at the crash site.

The bitter air stung her face as she stepped outside the tank. Clouds of moisture curled around her face. The clear evening sky glittered from the lights of distant stars. Persephone, one of the twin moons, cast her golden light onto wasteland. Tonight felt eerie. Grace trekked through the darkness, stumbling occasionally over the uneven earth. "Lights, please!" A sharp beacon of white light cut through the darkness, illuminating the crumpled arwing. "There you are." She climbed inside the cockpit, rummaging around for Falco's things. He didn't bring much with him. She found a meager duffle bag with some clothes and other do-dads. Grace tossed the bag at the tank's tracks and continued searching. "He must have something else in here," She banged her fist against the cockpit's internal walls. Upon hitting one of the walls, a hidden compartment popped open. "Ah ha! Let's see what kind of dirt you're hiding in here." She pulled out a sleek looking blaster. "Not bad." The next thing she retrieved was a small photo album. Interested, she cracked the book open to a random page. "Well, well, well, so you do have friends." A discolored hand wiped the dust off the photo. After flipping through several of the pages, she searched the compartment one last time to find the third and last object. "What is this?" Grace tugged out a rolled up magazine. Judging by the wrinkled paper and musty smell, the thing was pretty old. Her brow furrowed as she unrolled it. "_Cat House_, I'm not surprised." She shrugged. The guy had to get his kicks somehow. Gazing over the wreckage, there really wasn't much for her to do. She picked up stray pieces of the Arwing, dumping them in a pile near the fighter. Working under the gaze of the golden moon, beads of sweat rolled down her brow. Grace had no idea where the wings would be, but she was too tired to care. The guys could handle the rest from here. She snapped a few pictures of the fighter for the owner to see before hauling Falco's junk into the tank.

**Don't forget the saw.**

"One step ahead of you." She returned the expensive saw back to its compartment. "Let's head back."

**Aren't you going to clean my seats first? I find it highly disturbing to have his internal fluids all over my leather seats.** The tank tapped its brakes on, lowering itself into the ground. **Do have any idea how expensive leather is these days? Honestly, you should take better care of me.**

"I didn't pay eighty-thousand grand to listen to you complain." Grace massaged her forehead. "And why didn't you stop me earlier? It would have been easier to clean you then."

**It is your duty to take care of me.** **You shouldn't need to be reminded of my importance. **One of the guys back at base decided to install a personality into the tank around the time she purchased it. It _seemed_ like a good idea at the time, until she found out the personality mod was a dud. "You know, I should have brought a plane." A long, exasperated sigh escaped her. "They are more reliable."

**What did you say? Are you comparing me to one of those **_**flies**_**?** The tank hissed as it 'watched' her drag out the cleaning supplies.

"They are so easy to maintain." She sprayed the seats. "Maybe I should turn you in for one." If she talked about this long enough, it would apologize for its rude behavior. "Plus, the new fighters travel much farther—"

Grace stumbled back as the tank swiveled sharply. Okay, so it wasn't an apology. At least she could clean the seats later.

* * *

The _Trouble Maker_ parked itself in the parking lot of the hospital, cramming itself into six parking spaces. A week had passed since the avian's demise and time crawled by at a snail's pace. The Arwing had been transported, now all they needed to do was to bring back the pilot. Air travel would have been the preferred method of transportation; however, after much insisting by a certain tank, they would travel by land instead. Falco's crash also, unfortunately, grabbed the attention of the government. The big boys dropped in when Grace's co-workers were hoisting the Arwing onto a transporter tank. Naturally, they were questioned, and with the help of a few loopholes in the queries, they got off scot free. It was too early to celebrate, seeing that Falco would be living in their base for the time being, but hey, it was nice to frustrate the men in the stanch uniforms. The pilot better be grateful for the sacrifices they made to keep his ass safe.

* * *

Falco never was a huge fan of hospitals. He loathed the smells and sharp lights, and hated the idea of eating hospital food. On top of that, his throbbed every time he thought of something. The disgruntled avian hissed at the hospital staff and cussed out the doctor, not to mention he complained about the lousy service (which was true). Oh yes, Falco knew how to make himself popular with his caretakers. No one could blame him for his attitude. After crashing on some planet, losing a couple pints of blood, and sustaining a nasty concussion, you would probably be a little cranky. Thankfully, he wouldn't be around much longer. No one could put up with his crap forever.

"Ugh, I'm bored." He stretched his good arm. Due to his head injury, Falco wasn't allowed to do anything stimulating. He couldn't watch anything, or listen to any music, even reading was prohibited. At least he could talk to people. Of course, that's hard to do when your medical staff hates you and all your friends are in another system. Then there was his rescuer, Grace. She didn't show up much, and when she did, she didn't stay very long. He vaguely remembered her. Maybe, since his mind was screwed and doped on drugs, she didn't even exist. He constructed her from his own mind while in his wounded state. Yeah, that made sense. That would explain why he never saw her when she showed up. His nurses would feed him lies about her checking in on him to give him hope, so he wouldn't give up. He coughed, dark red drops splattering on the white bed sheets. It hurt to breathe, hell, it hurt to do anything. He never felt so much pain in his life before. If the guys were around, they would at least cheer him up with cheesy cards and flowers that only lasted a day. But more than that, they would be here and sit through all his whining and coughing and bleeding. They would talk about old times, and then Slippy would get all weepy eyed. He leaned his head back on the stiff pillow, irritating his even stiffer neck. Why did the good days have to end?

* * *

Grace's brow twitched. The young mechanic sat quietly in the lobby, reading over the list of procedures Falco had endured. Her oddly colored fingers tapped the clipboard. These bastards were taking advantage of her. She recalled going to the hospital dozens of times, and she never heard of 'bathroom usage fee'. What, did they charge her for every minute Falco's ass was on the toilet? Her grey eyes caught several other strange charges as well. She flipped back to the list of extensive injuries he sustained from his crash: a concussion, several cracked ribs, loss of feeling in his right arm, severe blood loss, a punctured lung, a nasty infection in his arm, and an incurable case of a bad attitude. Grace sipped her coffee. She didn't even want to look at the bill. There was no way she could pay it all off in cash. Her services as a mechanic would have to suffice; after all, maintenance on emergency vehicles was costly. Free repairs for three years sounded good enough.

The wounded bird started to doze off when a visitor arrived. She sat down in the seat adjacent to the bed, clutching a clipboard and a cup of coffee. He observed the strange woman through half closed eyes. She lacked color, except her fingers, which were dark magenta. Other than that, she looked as if she had pulled from a newspaper clipping. Her face was plain and austere with smooth features. Her grey eyes rested beneath two thick eyebrows. She was a forgettable looking person. Her clothes, like her short, black hair, were simple and dark. The woman did have a weird taste in fashion when he saw a black pelt draped across her lap. The piece of black fur flicked its tip. His eyes widened. That black 'pelt' actually was a tail. With a wider range of vision, he noticed the tall ears perched atop her head. The ears swiveled repeatedly.

"Odd sight, isn't it?" She said, not glancing up from the clipboard. "How are you feeling?"

He straightened himself on the bed and yawned. "I've been better." Falco had heard of people like this, he had never seen one before. "I'm bored out of my mind."

"I bet." Her stained hand reached over for her cup of coffee. "I'm Grace, if you can't remember."

So she was real. Good, he wasn't going crazy.

He sighed, rubbing his neck. "You don't have to do this. I can manage on my own."

Grace noticeably was a different person after taking several sips from her coffee. "Riiight, you can manage on your own." She finally looked at him and smiled. "Because that little stunt you pulled with the drones was taking good care of yourself." Falco didn't remember how she found him, what he did recall was her stellar personality. Oh yes, he had a vivid memory of her being an ass.

"Listen, you don't have to do this." He pointed at her with his good wing. "I didn't ask you to save me, and I'm not asking you to take care of me."

"Well it's too late for that, _buster_." She propped her feet up on the bed. "If you didn't want to be a burden on me then you should have crashed into the mountainside."

His feathers ruffled. "Why don't you just get me on the next flight out, huh? Wouldn't that be easier, _sweetheart_?" Two could play this game.

"Oh because Neverita is such a popular place, I'll book you a trip right away, _dear_." She growled at him, displaying her sharp teeth. "Listen, babe, the wheels are already in motion. We can't stop them now." Grace dropped her feet to the floor. "I couldn't just leave you out there. That isn't right. Sure it would be the easier thing to do, but…" Grace trailed off.

"But what?" Falco prodded.

"I couldn't take the easier route if it meant you died." The young mechanic shook her head. "Knowing that I let someone die on account of my laziness would make me sick." An uneasy silence fell between them. Grace shifted in her seat, "I should have asked."

The avian huffed tiredly. "You were just doing what you thought was right." He glanced at Grace, whose ears drooped. "So…how's my fighter?"

She suddenly tensed, clenching her fists tightly. "Uh, well it's…okay." Her discolored hand tugged the phone out of her pocket. "Here," Falco swiped it from her extended hand. Had he not been restrained to the bed, he would've smacked her. "Look at my ship, does it _look_ okay to you?" His brow knotted together. "Great, perfect, I can never leave this hell-hole!" He spat, tossing the phone back at her. His unexpected rage sent him in a coughing fit. While he tried to clear his lungs, he threw daggers at Grace. She could hold his gaze for so long before dropping it to her knees. After a sharp intake of breath, his coughing passed. "You probably didn't get everything out of it." He wiped the blood off his beak.

"I'm pretty sure I got everything."

"I doubt it."

"Are you referring to that old porno you got stuffed away? Cause I found that." She beamed. "It looks pretty loved as well," A tightly formed snarl curled on Falco's beak, adding to her amusement. The wolf continued, "It smells a little funny." He faced the window, ignoring the teasing wolf. There was no point in denying his ownership of the magazine since she would continue harassing him about it. Her tail waved in the reflection of the window. Perhaps if he ignored her long enough, she would get up and leave. Falco already grew tired of her antics.

A few minutes passed when she spoke again. "You know, we are trying to get you out of here." She stared out the window. "It won't be easy."

"I figured."

Grace's ears pricked up, not expecting a response. She thought he was done talking to her. "It won't be cheap."

"What isn't these days?"

"Oh and the government is breathing down our necks."

"Let 'em, they can't touch me."

"I take it you're on board?" Her tail wagged hopefully.

"You said the wheels were already in motion."

"They are and it would make my life simpler if you are with me. It's hard to sail a ship when the wind is against you."

He chuckled and extended his good hand. "Alright, you've twisted my wing, I'll co-operate." Grace grinned and clasped his feathered hand with her worn one. "I can't make any promises on when you leave. I can assure you will return home."

"That's all I want to hear." He dropped her hand. "So when do I get out of this place?"

"In a few weeks."

"A few weeks?! I'm going to die in here!"

Grace rolled her eyes. "Falco, hospitals weren't built to kill people. Even if you are dying from boredom, it's better than you dying from blood loss. When you are feeling better, you'll start working."

The avian grinded his beak, "Now wait just a damn second, you didn't say anything about working." He fumed at the giggling woman. "You _bitch_, you did that purposely to get some free labor."

Her hand flew to her mouth, "Did I trick you? I'm so sorry." His 'savior' waltzed out of the room. "I'll see you later."

"Good riddance." Falco massaged his temple. He felt a migraine coming on.

* * *

(Huzzah, two chapters down! Get ready for the road trip next chapter. I'm so excited, somebody stop me. Love it? Hate it? Hungry for more? Please tell me! Thank you! ~ Darkargo)


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